


Moonlight

by duesternis



Category: War and Peace (TV 2016)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-23 21:07:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30061548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/duesternis/pseuds/duesternis
Summary: Pierre comes to a rescue.
Relationships: Pyotr "Pierre" Kirillovich Bezukhov/Andrei Nikolayevich Bolkonsky





	Moonlight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Faye_Reynolds](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Faye_Reynolds/gifts).



> faye said "hello can i have some andrei and pierre sneaking off during a party together...perhaps pierre challenges andrei to a race...perhaps the end up in an empty hallway breathless and laughing...perhaps andrei smiles the way he does only at pierre...you know 😉" and who am I to resist?

The room was full with mingling people, laughter stirring the chandeliers, making the champagne in the crystal glasses ring out and Andrei was nursing a headache on the edge of a group of acquaintances, only vaguely aware of what they were saying.  
And then there was a hand on his elbow.  
He closed his eyes, prepared for Lisa’s clear voice to slice deep into the discomfort of the growing headache.  
“Andrei, are you quite well?”  
 _Pierre._

He looked at his friend, at the nervous little smile, the concerned knit of his brows and couldn’t help the smile in return.  
“Pierre,” he said, turning them away from the talking group, to discourage anyone else engaging them.  
“You look pale.”  
Pierre’s hand was still on his elbow, warm, even through all the layers, and Andrei studied it for a moment.  
Squarer nails than Lisa, bigger in size than hers, but not as much as Andrei would have guessed outright.  
A faint dusting of hair on the knuckles, a good few shades lighter than Pierre’s sorry mop.  
He covered it with his own hand and then they let go together.  
“Thank you, Pierre. Nursing a headache, that is all.”

With a quiet hiss expressing pure sympathy Pierre relieved Andrei of his champagne, finishing the glass and handing it off to a valet.  
“I think some quiet would be better for you, than all this noise. I know a place.”  
“Pierre,” tried Andrei to stop his friend, but Pierre looked at him over his shoulder, glasses slipped down on his nose, and Andrei was powerless against that imploring gaze.  
With a rueful smile he followed.

Lisa tried to catch his eye as they passed by her and some friends, but Andrei pretended not to have seen her.  
The pang of guilt was easily smoothed over, when Pierre held the doors for him.  
“Thank you. Where are you taking me?”  
“Just a bit further, Andrei, trust me?”

Andrei nodded.  
Head tilted slightly towards Pierre, teeth pressing against his lip as he smiled.  
Together they walked down the dimly lit hallways until the noise from the soiree was far behind them.  
Until even the dim lighting was long past them, and only the moonlight streamed through the high windows.  
Withe every step Andrei took in the quiet, at Pierre’s side, the hard knot in the back of his mind dissolved, until his headache was nothing but a memory, a bitter aftertaste on his tongue.  
Occasionally their sleeves brushed as they walked and Andrei smiled into the dark.

“Here,” said Pierre after they turned a corner.  
A long hallway stretched out before them, doors to their right, windows to their left.  
Moonlight painted it grey in grey and Andrei half turned to Pierre with raised brows.  
Pierre smiled, taking his glasses off. He slipped them into the inner pocket of his coat and then pointed at the end of the hallway.  
“Race me? Whoever reaches that end first may ask one thing of the loser.”  
Oh, a game.  
“And that is supposed to aide my headache?”

“Does it still hurt you so much?”  
Pierre’s hand on his elbow again, brows in a worried arch and Andrei shook his head, one hand on Pierre’s shoulder.  
“Not that much now, no. A race should be fine. Don’t cry if you lose, Pierre.”  
Pierre laughed and then squared his shoulders, turning to face the end of the hallway.  
“On three?”  
“On three,” agreed Andrei and together they counted down.

Pierre pushed off on the three and Andrei grabbed his flying coat tails to pull him back a half step, overtaking him.

A burst of laughter, Pierre complained loudly and then shoved Andrei towards the next door, gaining the lead.  
Andrei laughed again, unable to keep his wits about him.  
He felt like a boy again.  
Maybe even more carefree than he had ever felt as a boy.

Pierre looked at him over his shoulder, not slowing in his barreling towards the end of the hallway.  
Andrei pushed off the wall and really leaned into it now.  
His boots slid on the polished floor, but Pierre fared no better.  
Andrei had the advantage of longer legs and caught up with Pierre, much to Pierre’s misery.

Pierre grabbed for Andrei’s sleeve, missed, and caught the tail of his coat, doing his utmost to stop Andrei in his tracks.  
With a laugh he shrugged out of his coat and pushed on, all but tumbling against the solid wall at the end of the hallway.

Turned and doubled over with laughter.  
Pierre stood where Andrei had shrugged his coat off, holding it in his hands like a puppy bereft of his playmate.  
“Oh, Pierre!”  
Andrei wiped a tear from the corner of his eye and stood, opening his arms to his friend.

Pierre lifted his shoulders in a little laugh, dropped the coat, and then jogged the rest of the way, embracing Andrei.  
They were both warm from their run, the laughter bubbling under their skin.  
Andrei turned his face against Pierre’s head, letting Pierre’s hair tickle his nose.  
After a long moment they both leaned out of the embrace, hands still on their shoulders.

Andrei felt like the smile on his face was permanent now, and was wholly unused to the idea.  
His cheeks would be sore, come morning.  
“So, Andrei, what is it you have to ask of me?”  
Pierre sounded so grandly wounded, so honorable in his defeat, that Andrei couldn’t help but laugh again.  
He took Pierre’s dear face in both hands and smiled at him.  
“Nothing but a kiss.”

Pierre’s cheeks flushed with warmth under Andrei’s hands, the moonlight making his eyes shine like mother of pearl.  
“You needn’t ask for that, Andrei.”

Oh, what bliss!  
Oh, what pain!  
Andrei smiled, heart close to breaking in his chest, and kissed Pierre’s parted lips.  
Chastely, like friends kissed.

Like he kissed his wife.

No, he would not kiss Pierre like he kissed his wife.

With a sharp intake of breath Andrei tilted Pierre’s face in his hands and abandoned all hope.  
Touched his tongue to Pierre’s lips, to the tip of his tongue just beyond his teeth.  
Pierre’s hands clawed at this shirt and the moonlight flooded the hallway.

Like something from a dream, like something from a fairytale.


End file.
